Free Bad Business by Robert B. Parker

that they had surveillance on employees’ wives. It would not make recruiting any easier if word got around that your spouse might be spied on. On the other hand in these two cases there was actually hanky-panky going on. I didn’t know yet if Marlene had been cheating on Trent. But I knew he’d been cheating on her. And I knew Ellen Eisen had been cheating on Bernie—if cheating was possible in an open marriage. I’d have to check that with Darrin O’Mara.
    Maybe there were more than these two instances. Maybe it was company policy. But if surveillance was a policy, it might still be covert, but it would be better organized than handing wads of cash under the table totwo second-rate gumshoes, and calling them up for a report. There were too many employees. This deal was a seat-of-the-pants operation.
    A squirrel dashed past us. Without hesitating, Pearl was off the bench and after him. The squirrel barely made the tree, and barely got up it before Pearl was standing on her hind legs at the base.
    Francis and O’Neill were certainly through. Trent’s death blew that cover, and what I’d said to Eisen in front of Gavin had ended it for O’Neill. It would be easy enough to find out if Gavin put a new tail on the women. Same way I had before. But that wouldn’t tell me why. What was required was a brilliant stroke of detection. I couldn’t think of one. The best I could do was go around and talk to the same people again. If you keep poking, something will eventually come buzzing out. I went to get Pearl, still on her back legs, staring up the tree. I didn’t have to bend over to put her leash on.
    My friend Ms. Gluteus appeared, returning from her run. I watched her as she came toward us. Expensive shoes. Black tights, loose tee shirt, headband. She wore a curved yellow radio on her arm, the small earphones in place. In her left hand she carried a water bottle with one of those nozzles that allow you to squirt the water in without breaking stride. About twenty-four yards away she slowed to a walk and when she reached the tree where Pearl had cornered the prey, she stopped, breathing hard, and patted Pearl again.
    â€œWhat kind did you say?”
    â€œGerman shorthaired squirrel hound,” I said.
    â€œNot a weimaraner?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI also thought she might be a chocolate Lab.”
    â€œNo.”
    I could tell she was skeptical, but I seemed so sure. So after another couple of pats, she smiled and walked away drinking water from her squirt bottle.

20
    I was back in the Eisens’ flossy new condo looking at the view again, and drinking a light scotch and soda. Ellen and Bernie were having martinis that Ellen had made while we men got comfortable. Sadly, Darrin couldn’t join us.
    â€œI don’t know what to tell you, Spenser,” Eisen was saying. “I simply did not hire anyone to follow Ellen.”
    I was particularly fond of people who barely knew me calling me by my last name.
    â€œWell, Eisen,” I said. “Somebody was following her.”
    â€œThat’s ridiculous,” Eisen said.
    â€œIt is,” I said. “But there you have it.”
    â€œHonestly, Mr. Spenser,” Ellen said. “I don’t believe anyone was following me.”
    I smiled at her.
    â€œYou got it wrong, pal,” Eisen said.
    I was even more fond of people who called me pal. I tried to remain focused.
    â€œHow about Gavin?” I said.
    â€œGavin?” Eisen said.
    â€œWho’s Gavin,” Ellen said.
    â€œMy information is that Gavin had Ellen followed.”
    â€œJesus Christ,” Eisen said. “Will you stop it. Why the fuck would Gavin hire somebody to follow my wife?”
    â€œDarling,” Ellen said more firmly, “who is Gavin?”
    â€œHe’s the chief of security at the shop,” Eisen said.
    â€œSo why would Gavin have your wife followed?” I said.
    â€œHe wouldn’t, you